Brief Alaska Fishing Period Brings Big Profits

Special to the New York Times

Published: April 5, 1987

SITKA, Alaska, April 4—
It was not exactly a crap shoot, only something like one, but everyone hoped there would be no losers. Fifty-two fishing boats and their crews were poised to go after 3,600 tons of herring that would take about four hours to net and bring the fishermen perhaps $4 million.

Timing, as always, is critical to netting the herring when they return annually to spawn in Sitka Sound. The most valuable prize for fishermen is not the 8-inch-long herring but the petite croissant-shaped sac of golden eggs in the belly of the female, and if the nets are dropped too late the eggs will have been deposited on the floor of the sound. While the herring themselves are staples in Asian countries, the eggs are delicacies. They will go to Japan, where they sell for about $30 a pound at retail.

Biologists for the Alaska Fish and Game Commission had urged the 52 boat captains to go after the herring on March 27, but the men had balked, hoping the quality and the value of the eggs would improve. The longer the eggs ripen in the belly of the fish, the more valuable they are.

''We might be playing Russian roulette,'' said Bob DeJong, the commercial fisheries biologist for Alaska. The 52 captains who hold herring permits were selected starting in 1978 on the basis of how long they had been fishing and how dependent they were on the catch. Herring fishing was prohibited in the previous year after unlimited fishing depleted the waters.

As the herring move into the sound, normally in early March, the fishermen are put on notice and warned to stand by their radios, or, as one of them put it, ''to stay sober.''

On Tuesday time ran out when a major spawn, the evidence being milky scum, began to sweep the shoreline. At 9 A.M. Mr. DeJong called for the fishing to start at noon. The 52 captains and crews boarded vessels to head for the fishing ground, two miles up the sound from this town of 8,000 people. Mr. DeJong gave the boats a total of four square miles, an area with plenty of fish but tight enough for enforcement.

Aboard the 73-foot Sea Dancer, the captain, Carl Kerr, using fish-finding electronics, scanned for schools. His seine net, like those of other fishermen, can hold more than 200 tons of fish.

Captain Kerr, 61 years old, knew much of his success depended on what he did before his net hit the water. As the countdown approached, the boats must decide whether to stake out a spot, telegraphing their strategy to the fleet, or float almost aimlessly.

By then, the grounds were cramped. Joining the fishing boats were 10 processing ships, scores of skiffs carrying divers ready to unsnag nets from propellers or rocks and Coast Guard and state wildlife boats. Hundreds of Sitkans watched from the shore while others took to the fishing grounds in pleasure craft.

At noon Mr. DeJong counted down from 10 over the radio. While a skiff anchored one end of the seine net, the Sea Dancer accelerated, unwinding the seine and its corks into a circle, surrounding a school of fish. The seine's bottom was drawn tight. With a combination of muscle and mechanical power, the net was pulled aboard. As the circle shrank and herring flashed, the crew used a large vacuum pump to suck the fish into the Sea Dancer's hold. Waste water, tinged with blood, gushed away, leaving a trail of silver scales.

Captain Kerr dropped his net three times in the 4 hours and 10 minutes the herring fishing season lasted. His catch weighed about 50 tons, worth more than $50,000. ''It wasn't that good this year,'' said Captain Kerr, ''but I've had my years.''

The biggest catches grossed the boat captains and crews than $200,000. Each of the crew member would take home $8,000 to $10,000 for the day's work.

The total catch was put at 4,000 tons, and the total value was given as $4 million to $4.5 million.

Many had hoped for bigger catches, perhaps at much as the $500,000 pulled in by one boat in a recent season. But at least no one came away with an empty hold, which happened last year when a captian set his net for deep water and shallow water was designated for the fishing. His protest to state officials did nothing to change his bad luck.